We got Jennie buckled into her seat. Dr. Prentiss took out a syringe and needle and administered an injection of Sernalin, a mild sedative, in her right arm. Jennie had always been cooperative about shots and this was no exception. As soon as she fell asleep the pilot revved up the engines and took off. He banked away from the sun and we flew right over Kibbencook, over our house, over the golf course and the meandering brook. The Kibbenbook Episcopal Church spire threw a long, blue shadow across the town square, and then the town was gone, and we were droning over the endless inner suburbs of Boston, jammed with traffic. The town had looked so peaceful, and I wondered if Jennie would ever again see that small, unimportant place on the earth, her world.
Dr. Prentiss and I took turns sitting near Jennie, ready with another dose of sedative in case she should wake up. Lea sat in the front. We were worried that Jennie might take fright at her surroundings, but she slept through the entire five-hour flight.
George Gabriel met us at the airport in his Jeep, and during the ride to the Tahachee center Jennie finally roused herself. She was groggy and irritated at first and gave a short scream of anxiety when she saw we were traveling. Lea soothed her and stroked her forehead, and she calmed down.
We had discussed in almost endless detail the best way for Lea and I to help Jennie make the transition to her new life. Dr. Prentiss, Dr. Gabriel, and I felt a quick departure would be better than a long good-bye, but Lea objected. She wanted to stay and make sure Jennie had begun adjusting to her new surroundings before we left. She also wanted to see how Jennie was going to react to meeting other chimpanzees. We decided to stay for two days, during which we would be with Jennie at the center, play with her, and allow her free run of the place.
We drove down a long, dilapidated road. The palmettos gave way and we passed through the center’s rusted iron gates into a large expanse of green lawn sprinkled with buildings. Like the Barnum property, it had once been an estate, and it retained a parklike feeling. The main house, a stuccoed Spanish hacienda, had been converted to offices and living quarters. A long barn housed the chimpanzee cages, each with an outdoor run. The caretaker’s and gardener’s cottages had been converted to bungalows for visiting researchers, and we stayed in one of those with Jennie.
The first, and most critical, part of Jennie’s adjustment would be her meeting other chimpanzees. We planned to introduce her to a small chimpanzee named Fred, a former Barnum colony animal. Fred was very gentle and the lowest-ranking male in the chimpanzee hierarchy. As she learned to trust Fred, then she would be introduced to the others. When Dr. Gabriel felt assured there would be no conflicts, she would be released on the island to begin her new life.
We could not avoid putting Jennie in a cage when we left, because we all knew she was going to have a difficult time seeing us go. She had never, during her entire life, been separated from all the family members at once. How long she would take to calm down we did not know. In the meantime, Fred would inhabit the cage next to hers, and we expected they would soon become friends.
We spent the first night with Jennie in the bungalow. She was alert and excited, and a little apprehensive. Nothing like this had happened to her, and she did not quite know what to make of it. During the night she was restless, and around midnight wandered into our bedroom and snuggled under the covers between us. The next morning we ate breakfast with her at the main house and walked over the grounds. At noon, it was time for Jennie to meet her first live chimpanzee.
Fred was in a cage, where he would be safe should Jennie take a dislike to him. We brought Jennie around to the back of the complex, where the cages had outdoor runs. We were walking along, each holding one of Jennie’s hands, when we rounded the corner and Jennie saw Fred.
She stopped and froze. Instantly all the hair on her body was standing on end. Fred glanced at her and continued with his business, sucking on a banana peel, not terribly interested.
But Jennie was interested. I heard a sound rumble up from deep in her throat, a sound I had never heard before. It was almost a growl, such as one might hear from an angry tomcat. Then she slowly backed up and went behind Lea’s legs and crouched down, gripping her legs, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
We sat down about ten yards from the cage. Jennie was, I believe, terrified of Fred, and continued to hide behind our backs, sometimes peeping around the side to take a surreptitious look. We tried grooming Jennie—which usually soothed her—but she shook us off. She ignored the banana we offered her. All she did was stare at Fred and growl.
I pointed to Fred and signed What’s that?
She stared for a long time and then signed, slowly and clumsily Black bug, black bug. We sat there for a good part of three hours without any visible change of behavior. Jennie had received a deep shock to her psyche.
After seeing Fred, Jennie’s behavior changed dramatically. Wherever we went in the compound she was quiet and alert. When we tried to play with her on the lawn she pushed us away and sat down, looking all about her, as if afraid Fred would suddenly materialize from behind the palm trees. At the squawk of a bird or the rustle of wind she was up and looking about, her hair bristling, issuing a soft “Wraaaa” bark. She completely lost her appetite.
Dr. Gabriel reassured us that Jennie’s reaction was not unusual. He said that chimpanzees are suspicious of each other when they first meet, even if they are used to being with their own kind. The main point, he felt, was to give the relationship time and not push it. Jennie would set her own schedule, and when she was ready to meet Fred on friendly terms she would. When we left, he would put Jennie in a cage next to Fred and let them get used to each other over a week or two.
Lea was uneasy about putting Jennie in a cage, but Dr. Gabriel explained that there was no alternative. The cage was huge—almost as big as a small house, with both outdoor and indoor facilities. Jennie would have all her toys and lots of good food. Dr. Gabriel and the staff would visit and play with her every day. With Fred in the adjoining cage, the two chimps could have continuous contact with each other without danger. He expected a quick adjustment.
Our last night in the bungalow, Jennie hardly slept at all. She crouched on the foot of the bed, looking around and sucking on her fingers, sometimes rocking back and forth. There is no doubt she sensed a big change was coming in her life. The thought of leaving Jennie was weighing heavily on us, and, if the truth be told, we all passed a grim night. I remember telling myself that this was only an animal, that we had two lovely children, but for the first time in my life my intellect could not communicate with my heart. I could hardly bear the thought of giving her up. I wondered then, and I wonder today, what the biological basis of such an attachment could have been. She was, after all, not even a member of my own species. Lea was very quiet, but I felt she was as upset as I was.
We rose at 6:00 A.M., before sunrise, and walked down to the bayou with Jennie. It was a cloudy day and instead of a sunrise the gray light seemed to come up out of the water. At 7:00 A.M. we brought Jennie to Fred’s cage again, but her reaction was unchanged: she growled and bristled up her hair and hid. She made every effort to get us away from Fred’s cage, pulling on our hands and stamping with anger, trying to swagger off but soon scurrying back with a grin of fear. She signed Dirty, dirty repeatedly in a transparent effort to get us to take her to the bathroom, and then she signed Chase Jennie chase-tickle Jennie in another effort to lure us away from the cage. When none of these strategems worked she sulked behind Lea, gripping her with one hand and sucking miserably on some dry leaves with the other.
We ate breakfast with Dr. Gabriel in his quarters. Jennie continued to refuse food. Dr. Gabriel suggested that it would be better in the beginning if Jennie and Fred were separated by an empty cage, so that Jennie would not be unduly upset by Fred’s close proximity. We discussed over breakfast the best way to get Jennie into the cage before we left. We were scheduled to fly back to Boston that afternoon, and we had to leave for the airport abou
t 11:30 A.M.
When it came time to bring Jennie into the building where her cage was, she refused to enter. We tried luring her in with food, but she ignored all treats. One of the center’s workers, a man named Finney, snapped a lead on her and tried to pull her in, but he ended up in a tug-of-war that anyone would have known he would lose. Lea felt that it was counterproductive to try to force Jennie into the building, and she made a suggestion. We went inside the building and began playing with Fred through the bars of his cage. As soon as she saw this, Jennie came swaggering in, her hair standing up, and gave Fred her most threatening “Wraaaaa” bark. Dr. Gabriel quickly shut the door.
We then faced the problem of getting her into the cage itself. It was a huge cage with metal bars on the bottom and chain link on top. It had both an indoor and outdoor area, so it did not, we felt, resemble anything she might associate with imprisonment. We brought her duffel bag of toys and dumped them on the floor of the cage, and both Lea and I went inside and began playing with them, while Dr. Gabriel and Finney waited outside. Soon Jennie had come in and was driving her toy fire truck around. The presence of her familiar toys seemed to relax her. We played for a few minutes until Jennie had become engrossed.
Then Dr. Gabriel said quietly: “I think it’s time now,” and gestured toward the cage door.
We nonchalantly edged over.
Dr. Gabriel said, “Please leave quickly. Now.”
We both ducked out and Finney slammed the door shut and locked it.
That was the last time Lea or I saw Jennie, and it was the end of her delightful, fascinating, and effervescent presence in our lives.
I will never forget you, Jennie.
[Editor’s note: this rather abrupt ending is presented here exactly as written by Dr. Archibald. It is the last mention of Jennie in his memoir.]
[FROM an interview with Lea Archibald.]
It was just awful when we had to say good-bye to Jennie. I feel so ashamed. We tricked her into the cage. She was so trusting, so . . . I can never forgive myself for what we did. Poor Hugo; I think it just about broke his heart.
We were in the cage, playing with Jennie’s toys. It was my idea. They said she would only be in the cage for a few days. So Hugo and I were in there, and Jennie came in. We played. Or we tried to. Right in the middle of it I saw that these . . . Oh dear . . . [At this point Mrs. Archibald began to weep.]
While Hugo was playing with one of Jennie’s toys . . . I saw that a tear was trickling down his face. . . . It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a single tear. . . . Hugo never cried, you see. He was old-fashioned in that way.
Gabriel then told us to leave.
So then we got up quickly and left. Before Jennie knew what was happening. And Gabriel slammed the door of the cage and locked it.
Right then Jennie realized. She knew exactly what had happened. How she had been betrayed by us, the two people she trusted most in the world. . . . Oh dear God. . . . Do we have to go through this? . . . I’m sorry. No, no, I’m quite all right. I’m just a useless old lady. Jennie started to scream. It was a terrible scream. We were walking to the exit of the barn. And suddenly I realized Hugo wasn’t with me. I looked around. . . . He had stopped and turned. Jennie’s arms were straining through the bars of the cage. She was reaching toward him, toward us. . . . And . . . Hugo held out his arms to her, and then he made this sound, like he was choking, and I realized he was sobbing. . . . And he said, “I’m so sorry, Jennie. Please forgive me. Oh God, forgive me, Jennie, I’m so sorry. . . .”
We had to help him out; he could hardly walk. . . . It was my fault; I’m the one who made him give up Jennie. . . . I just can’t . . . no more . . . Please . . .
eleven
[FROM an interview with Dr. Pamela Prentiss.]
After the Archibalds left, I stayed on. Jennie knew me, and we felt that someone from her old life should help her make the transition. Despite a heavy teaching load at Tufts and several research projects, I made the time.
Jennie wasn’t like the other chimpanzees we had had at the center. She presented terrible difficulties. Her erratic and chaotic upbringing had not prepared her for her new life, which by its very nature would be more regimented. Now everyone keeps talking about Jennie being put in a “cage.” This is a misnomer. The cage was enormous. There was a jungle gym, tire swings, climbing platforms, dead trees, a sandbox, and a little pool of water. The ceiling was a good twenty-five feet up. It was much larger than her room back in Kibbencook. Which, by the way, had been virtually turned into a prison by Mrs. Archibald. Her new area was nearly the size of a small house. It had a 400-square-foot indoor space and a 200-square-foot outdoor run. These “cages” were the largest primate enclosures that had ever been built outside of a zoo habitat. So let’s get over this business of “Jennie being locked up in a cage,” okay? I’m so tired of hearing that shit. This cage was a lot larger and nicer than the apartment in Boston that I lived in for over ten years. She had all her toys, favorite clothes, and favorite foods. She lacked nothing.
Jennie suffered terrible separation anxiety. She screamed day and night. She was used to getting her way with the Archibalds by acting up. And separation from friends appears to be even more difficult for chimpanzees than for humans. She’d been with the Archibalds all her life. She’d never been away from them for even a day. No wonder she was upset!
We decided we shouldn’t let her out of the cage until she calmed down, since it would seem like a “reward” to her and only make her scream louder when she was put back in. We did not want to reward bad behavior. Instead, we planned to start taking her out after she calmed down. You understand? I mean, if we started taking her out every day, that would reinforce her bad behavior. You see what I mean?
Even after three days she had not settled down. There were periods of silence. As soon as she saw someone she would begin screaming again. And hammering on the bars of her cage. When Dr. Gabriel fed her, she threatened him and often threw the food back at him. She took a marked dislike to Dr. Gabriel. I think she associated him with her change of life. Certainly it had no rational basis, this dislike. Except perhaps that Dr. Gabriel was a little intimidated by her. Jennie often acted badly toward those who were afraid of her.
She didn’t threaten me, but my presence made her unbelievably shrill. It was like she was begging me to help her. Oh! It was hard to listen to that! But what you have to understand is that the best thing for Jennie was to adjust as quickly as possible to the presence of other chimpanzees. Listen to me. It would’ve done her no favor at all to release her every time she screamed. And then of course we never would have gotten her back in. The sooner she adjusted to other chimps, the quicker she could be released on the island. Everything we did was right.
Jennie hated the other chimps. We were shocked. Although fear and aggression is normal when strange chimpanzees meet each other, I’d never seen anything quite like it. Really. She hated them. This would have changed, eventually. I’ve never seen a chimpanzee that didn’t adjust to others of its own kind.
Now that magazine writer criticized me for not having the Archibalds come down. Mrs. Archibald told a lot of lies to him. But you see, this was important for Jennie’s adjustment. Jennie had to make a clean break from her old life. Any contact with the Archibalds would have been devastating. You saw what happened. We were absolutely right. Naturally, when she got used to her new life the Archibalds would have been welcome to visit.
We couldn’t have just let her go on the island. Once Jennie tried to kill another chimpanzee. You see, when Jennie rejected Fred we tried her with another. Sallie. A juvenile female, very submissive. We put her in the adjacent cage.
For a while Jennie continued to scream. But later we heard her screaming stop. There was a one-way viewing mirror in the building, and Dr. Gabriel happened to be watching when he saw this terrible thing. Jennie had calmed down. She was at the bars separating her from Sallie. Of course Sallie had been terrified by Jennie and was on the other
side of the cage, but Jennie started to act real friendly. She waited there with her arms through the bars, occasionally signing Play, play to Sallie, who did not, by the way, know ASL. She fooled Dr. Gabriel and she fooled Sallie. Dr. Gabriel was getting excited, thinking the breakthrough was at hand. Sallie began edging over until she got within Jennie’s reach. All of a sudden Jennie grabbed her and, quite literally, tried to kill her. Sallie managed to get away, but she had suffered a sprained arm and a deep bite wound on her hand.
It was awful. Just awful. This was the kind of thing we had to deal with every day.
Jennie was so upset when I was around that I couldn’t communicate with her. She was too busy screaming. I went to her cage several times a day and patiently tried to initiate a conversation. I kept signing Jennie be nice, please and Jennie be quiet, and If Jennie play with Fred, Jennie go for walk. I also tried in a crude way to explain to her that she was a chimpanzee, not a human, that Fred was also a chimpanzee, and that Fred wanted to be friends. None of it sunk in.
On the third day I finally got a reaction from Jennie. After signing for half an hour while Jennie screamed, she finally signed vigorously Bad bad!
I quickly signed What bad?
She signed Bad Pam bad.
Why Pam bad? I signed.
Bad Pam bite angry.
Then she began screaming and banging again.
I was so full of hope at this point! Dialogue is the first step toward understanding. I tried to encourage her by signing Why Pam bad? and If Jennie be quiet, Jennie go for walk. I tried to tell her in every way that if she quieted down, we would let her go for a walk.
Jennie Page 26